


wipe these stars from my eyes

by scriveyner (trismegistus)



Series: Voltron Fic Collection [13]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, M/M, Shance Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 01:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10776273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/scriveyner
Summary: Lance flung his arms out and yelled, "I didnotsleep with Shiro!"There was a long moment of silence as the last of Lance's words hung in the early morning air. "So ... you were just naked in his tent when I walked in, then," Pidge said."Yes!"shance_zine 2017 entry





	wipe these stars from my eyes

Shiro did not expected to be missed from the Dothori's celebration. He had excused himself early in the evening, during the dusky twilight hours, and went for a walk to stretch his legs and clear out his mind. The Dothori were huge aliens, the smallest adults of their race still had a foot of height on Shiro himself; and the way they crowded around the Paladins made him quietly uncomfortable. The feeling was something he had gotten far too good at pushing aside; they were in no rush here tonight so he slipped away from the banquet table and made his way through the maze of brightly colored, patchwork tents, to the edge of the camp.

The Castle of Lions stood in the distance, the last fading rays of the setting sun still highlighting her tallest point. The Lions were all safe inside again; despite Hunk's rather rough landing in their earlier fight against the Galra outpost everyone and everything was back to the way it was supposed to be. It was second nature by now to playback the battle; the strategy they used, and where their teamwork needed a tweak or two. Shiro folded his arms and stared past the Castle in the distance, thinking on the new training regiment they should implement, and trying not to let that heavy feeling he'd pushed aside overwhelm him.

He couldn't let himself get overwhelmed. The entire team looked to him, expected him to lead with a level, calm head. He couldn't let them down.

But, left alone with his thoughts and the first thing they drifted to were those patchwork memories – memories that were more emotion than anything substantial; pain and fear shot through with adrenaline, aching helplessness, bitter hopelessness. Shiro took in a long deep breath, before releasing it into the cool evening air. It didn't help.

"Shiro?"

He really hadn't expected anyone to come after him so quickly, when Shiro had left all the others had been busy. Keith was trying to feign off Dothori suitors who were suitably impressed with his valor, however Lance was of course eating up the attention so much he was actually dancing with them in the plaza. Hunk and Pidge were only slightly more reserved, halfway through taking apart a Dothori skiff to modify it; and Allura and Coran were visiting with the high priestess and her retinue. He figured he would have at least an hour, if not more, before anyone came looking for him as it was far too easy for any of the Paladins to simply vanish amidst the towering, fuzzy aliens.

Shiro turned around, his arms folded still, to see to his surprise that it was Lance. He had expected that if anyone noticed his absence and came after him it would be Keith. Shiro put on a small smile, automatic and forced, as Lance stepped out from between the final two border tents with a concerned expression on his face. "You okay?" he asked, and he was carrying two of the broad, flat bowls that the Dothori used as drinkware. "I saw you leave. Everything all right?"

"I'm fine, Lance," Shiro said automatically, because even if he wasn't, he had to be. "Go back to the party, enjoy yourself." He turned back out the way he was looking; in the time that he had looked away the planet's sun had dipped enough that even the tallest point of the distant castle no longer saw its rays. "We'll be leaving in the morning."

He looked back when he saw movement out of his peripheral vision, Shiro jerked his head a little but it was only Lance, offering one of the flat bowls. "They were handing these out after you booked it," he said. "Figured you'd want some."

Shiro looked at the drink that Lance was offering him and frowned; the liquid was more clear than opaque; the dim light of the paper lanterns strung between tents didn't give him more than that. "What _is_ it?"

"No clue. Keith started sucking it down like it was water, so it's gotta be good." Shiro took the bowl from Lance's outstretched hand and watched as Lance himself took a long sip from his own. Accepting that Lance hadn't sprayed a mouthful of liquid into the evening air; Shiro took a drink.

After a moment's struggle, he swallowed. He looked at the bowl, then looked to Lance, who was watching him slyly. He'd been set up, the drink tasted like vinegar had a fling with mint. "Go back to the party, Lance," Shiro said, and didn't miss the way Lance's expression twitched. "I'm fine."

Lance sighed heavily and stepped forward, standing beside Shiro. They weren't wearing their Paladin armor now; Coran had produced Altean diplomatic clothing which was much better suited to celebrating. Without the bulk of the armor, though, Lance looked young. He _was_ young, Shiro reminded himself. They all were.

"I can't go back yet," Lance said finally, breaking off that unsettling silence that was deeply, deeply unusual from him. He scratched his fingers along his jaw, and Shiro realized there were raised red welts there. "Think I'm allergic to their fur. Or at least, Myir's," he said at Shiro's startled expression, eyebrow raised. Lance sighed dramatically, gesturing with his drink. "Our love is tragic, cursed-"

Shiro snorted despite himself. "I think it's a little soon for love, Lance."

Lance shrugged, both his hands in the air. "At least we discovered this disaster before things moved to their natural conclusion," he said, touching his fingers to the rash on his face again but looking distant. "I mean, I do _not_ want to have to explain to the Princess I gotta use the healing pod for a rash on my-"

" _Lance,"_ Shiro said emphatically, but he was smiling.

Lance shrugged again, and glanced at Shiro's expression. He was scrutinizing it again, and Shiro felt like he was being put under a microscope; from _Lance_ of all people. He looked away, up at the purple-hued sky, where thousands of little pinpricks of light in deeply unfamiliar constellations had emerged. When he glanced back over at Lance, his diversion had worked; Lance was staring up at the night sky as well. "Seriously though," Shiro said softly. "Go back and enjoy yourself."

"What about you?" Lance said, without tearing his eyes from the sky.

"I'm fine," Shiro said firmly, for the third time in as many minutes.

"I don't think you are," Lance said, and looked over at Shiro. Shiro was taken aback for a moment by the bluntness of the comment, then frowned.

"This isn't up for discussion," Shiro said finally. He made to upend his drink in the hard yellow grass, but to his surprise Lance's hand closed on his wrist.

"How can you expect us to be a team if you're hiding things from us?" Lance said suddenly, sharply, yanking on Shiro's wrist. The liquid sloshed over the lip of the bowl and Shiro did dump it, even with Lance's hand on his arm. "And don't say you're not."

The first words that rose to Shiro's lips were bitter and angry, and he swallowed them back down just as quickly. It was an easy effort to shrug himself free of Lance's grip and he did so. "I'm not hiding anything," he said; and the anger rose in his voice despite himself. "Lance, you should go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Lance said firmly, and for all the anger simmering in the back of Shiro's throat he felt weirdly grateful for the words. "Shiro, what's _wrong?_ You've been on edge for days now, you need to talk to us, man." His hand found Shiro's arm again, the grip not as tight and insistent, fingers clutching at the thin material of the Altean outfit. Shiro turned his head away, ran through a litany of different variations of 'I'm fine, go _away_ ,' but before he could settle on one, Lance said softly, "it's okay to not be fine, Shiro."

Shiro closed his eyes and exhaled. "I fought a Dothori," he said, this fragmented memory buried deep. If he dredged up too much, then he would drown in the blood that dripped from his hands. "Once." _You did what you had to survive._

"You fought a lot of aliens as a gladiator, though," Lance said, and Shiro opened his eyes, surprised at the matter-of-fact tone coming from Lance. "That's not what this is about, is it?" Lance released his arm and took a step back, folding his arms and still managing to keep his drink upright without spilling it.

There was a crackle and a crash to their right; Shiro spun into a defensive pose automatically while Lance didn't move at all. Two of the Dothori – both of these with tan and cream fur, and four horns arrayed across their brow – thundered around the far tent and jumped the ridge, tumbling down into the dirt and brambles below. Shiro relaxed his held posture after a moment, and walked to the edge of the ridge, Lance trailing behind him. Below they could see the two Dothori rolling around in the dirt and wailing pitifully. "I think those are two of the ones who were flirting with Keith," Lance said. "I wonder what happened?"

"Maybe we should find out," Shiro said, looking up the way the Dothori had come, and silently relieved at the interruption.

* * *

"You are like, the furry Casanova," Lance said, one elbow on the banquet table and a leer directed straight at Keith. "Is this a Galra thing? Do you like, secrete pheromones that drives all the fuzzy nomads wild with lust? Because _dang_ , son-"

Keith slammed his hands flat on the banquet table and rose so fast the shared bench wobbled. "You and me, right now," he said, pointing at Lance. "I am gonna kick your _ass-_ "

Shiro put his hand on Keith's shoulder and very firmly pushed him back down onto the bench. "Keith, stop it," he said, and Keith then glared at Lance, who was making kissy noises in Keith's direction. " _Lance._ "

"I don't know," Pidge said, leaning around Shiro's form and looking down the table at Lance. "It might be that he _does_ secrete hormones." Keith groaned loudly and folded his arms. "It's quite possible that the hormones he's secreting are hostile though, and that's why Lance keeps needling him so much." She pushed her glasses up her nose. "Or maybe Lance just has a crush."

The most impressive thing was not how quickly they both turned red, but how quickly they got as far apart as they possibly could. Shiro sighed dramatically as Lance slapped both of his hands on Hunk's shoulders and said, "okay big guy, we're trading. Yellow can be the right leg, I'm moving over here."

Hunk, who had for the most part ignored their conversation, said, "go sit by your boyfriend, Lance."

Lance screeched, and Pidge and Hunk both laughed. "He is _not_ my – look, man, I have standards." He angrily folded his arms. "Also, I'm not gay."

Shiro shook his head and picked up one of the drinking bowls, making sure to smell it before he took a drink from its contents. Keith was staring straight down at the table, face still completely red. "Lance isn't my boyfriend," Keith muttered when he saw Shiro looking at him.

"You're a _little_ gay," Hunk said, and Lance blustered as Pidge went, "oh _ho_."

"I am not! That was once!"

"It's okay man, there's no judgment here," Hunk said, and pointed with the spoon that the Dothori used. It was really sized more like a ladle, but everything seemed to be hilariously oversized by comparison. "You were all ready to-" Lance covered Hunk's mouth with both hands and the next few words were mostly muffled. Pidge, who was already finding this whole conversation absolutely hilarious, pounded the table and laughed so hard her glasses slipped down her nose again.

"Guys," Shiro said mildly, actually more entertained than mortified as they weren't necessarily drawing attention. The aliens around them were having their own animated conversations, although at least two or three from every table were now getting up and heading toward the center plaza for what appeared to be another dance. Their Dothori hosts were clapping their great, clawed hands to the base of the stringed instruments, producing a vibrant tone.

Lance, apparently done with the teasing, flounced around the table and down toward the mass of furry creatures, looking for a partner. "He's going to have a full body rash by the time the night is out," Pidge said, pulling a bowl toward herself and staring at the ladle-sized spoon. "Someone ought to stop him."

"Good, I hope it itches," Keith said.

Shiro gave Keith a disapproving look, but Keith had his arms folded and was glaring in a different direction. After a short sigh, Shiro took another long pull of the drink; this one sweet, with the faint bitter burn of alcohol, but nothing at all like what Lance had tried to get him to drink earlier. Then he stood. " _I'll_ go get him," he said, extricating himself from the long bench. Shiro caught the tail end of a peculiar glance from Pidge, but Hunk didn't seem to notice, and Keith raised his head, but did not unfold himself from the sulking position he had taken.

The aliens had begun to play their instruments; some plucking the strings and others still drumming rhythmically on the base. It produced a deep, soothing noise, and the Dothori who had come down to this part of the plaza were swaying all around him, humming deep in their chests in unison. There was something about the range of the noise that echoed in Shiro's chest, and he paid close attention to how it was affecting him as he walked through the crowd.

Lance had already eeled his way to the front, his blue clothing the easiest way to find him in the midst of crimson and grey and tan. He stood near the musicians, swaying a little, and alone; looking for any single Dothori for a partner; but they had all paired up. Shiro reached out to touch his shoulder, because the noise and the vibration of the music and the hum were very loud here, but Lance half-turned as he did so and spotted Shiro with his right hand outstretched.

His face lit up at seeing Shiro there, with his hand offered out, and Shiro did not have the time to correct the thought before Lance slipped under his arm and up against him, beaming. "You'll dance with me, right, Shiro?" Lance's voice was just barely louder the rhythmic humming, and Shiro gave a bemused sigh and allowed Lance to pull him forward. He was allowed to enjoy himself too, right?

* * *

Pidge lounged back at the banquet table, one hand typing idly at the projected computer from her small datapad. "I wonder if we should tell them that this is a courtship dance," she said, and Hunk choked on his bread.

Keith stood up, hard enough to rock the bench again. "I'll go get Shiro," he said, both hands flat on the banquet table, and determination in his voice. Pidge looked over at him and arched her eyebrow, then looked significantly to the pair of cream and tan Dothori who were lingering not-so-obtrusively at the edge of the dance floor. Keith followed her gaze, then curled his fingers against the table and said in a low voice, "I can outrun'em."

"As entertaining as that would be I don't think it's necessary," Pidge said, still scrolling idly. "We'll be leaving the planet tomorrow, and really, what's the harm? Let them have fun."

Keith stared out at the dance floor, still standing with his palms on the banquet table, as if he was prepared to vault it. Shiro was letting Lance lead him in the dance, and there was an actual, genuine smile on Shiro's face, relaxed in a way that Keith hadn't seen in a long, long time. Possibly since before Kerberos. Keith exhaled hotly through his nose and after another long moment, sat grudgingly back down.

The two Dothori who had been waiting to pounce on him whuffled in disappointment.

* * *

Lance woke slowly, to the scent of sweet woodsmoke and a sickly, yellow-green dawn. He didn't lift his head from his arm, instead taking the moment to just exist; and recognizing that the throb behind his eyes was going to get significantly worse when he shifted. The previous night had tangled into a colorful blur, and Lance let his eyes drift slightly, beginning to doze right back off again. There were no proximity alarms, no warning sirens, just soft, warm covers and a deep drowsiness tugging at the edge of his consciousness. He rolled over, shifting under the covers and pulling them back up over his shoulder, putting his back to the daylight and settling in so he could sleep more; because _when_ did he ever get this excuse back on the ship?

He let out a long, relaxed sigh through the nose, and barely blinked when the covers shifted again. Whatever it was that their Dothori hosts served in those broad, shallow cups was thick and sweet and barely tasted alcoholic, but the hangover that he was desperately trying to avoid told him it _must_ be stronger than the nunavil that Coran kept in the ship's galley. When the covers shifted again, insistently, Lance groaned, squinted his eyes open and stared across the pillow at Shiro; who was barely awake himself and giving Lance the most confused, sleep-addled look he had ever seen.

Lance yawned and stretched languorously slow, one hand on his neck, then propped himself up on an elbow. His head hurt too freaking much to bother with flipping his lid, so instead he just stared over at Shiro. "What are you doing in my bed?" Lance asked conversationally, his voice unnaturally hoarse.

There was something _off_ about the way that Shiro was staring at him, like there was an edge of panic there that Shiro didn't usually let escape. "This is ... my bed," Shiro said, his voice deeper and thick with sleep. Something about his voice made Lance smile lazily, the rumble settling in his chest comfortably. Shiro never showed up at anything less than fully 100% awake and ready to go, so this was a new thing. He looked around, the natural light seeping in past the tent's flap slowly illuminating the languid sprawl of shed diplomatic outfits, and Shiro's paladin armor, set in a carefully curated pile to the left of the nest of pillows and blankets that served as a bed.

"Huh," Lance said. "Why am I in _your_ bed?"

Shiro shifted suddenly, sitting upright quickly, and the thick, warm covers flopped down to pool around his waist. He was naked – or at least from the waist up, and Lance could literally count on one hand the amount of times that Shiro had allowed himself to be seen without a shirt. It wasn't like the scars bothered any of them, but Shiro for the most part still kept covered up. Shiro stared off, his brow furrowed, and then he glanced over at Lance, who was still stretched out on his side, staring unabashedly at Shiro's chest with a sleepy expression. The movement at least drew Lance's eyes back up to Shiro's face, and he was still wearing the confusion there. "Do you remember anything about last night?" Shiro asked, and Lance shrugged one shoulder loosely and yawned again.

"I remember there was this Dothori chick," Lance said dreamily, resting his chin on his hand. "The one with the red and black fur that I kept dancing with."

"Is that really all you think about?" Shiro asked, then seemed to catch himself and said, "Lance, focus."

"What? She was hot." Lance sat up all the way as well, and drew his legs up, crossing them under the covers. The sickly yellowish light had gotten brighter all the while, and he stretched his arms out over his head. "So I crawled into the wrong bed last night after getting wasted on alien booze, the best thing that'll come out of all this is Keith blowing his stack when he sees me coming out of _your_ tent."

Shiro sighed. "Your priorities leave a lot to be desired."

"Hey, I gotta get my kicks where I can," Lance raised an eyebrow in Shiro's direction, as Shiro got up. Then his mouth opened and shut once, but no further sound came out as he was presented with Shiro's finely sculpted, bare ass. Lance inhaled quickly. "Holy _shit_ where are your pants."

Without even looking down to confirm his nudity Shiro yanked the top cover loose and cinched it around his waist. Lance flailed himself out the other side of the bed. "Why are you _naked_ ," Lance yelled, arms pinwheeling. "In _bed_ , with _me?_ "

"Lance!" Shiro's voice was strangled, and he wasn't looking directly at Lance any longer. Lance looked down and turned pink from his chin to his hairline, before grabbing for the first piece of material he could find to cover himself – which happened to be the tunic from Shiro's formal clothes. He held it in front of himself, blushing furiously, while Shiro covered his eyes with his free hand and half-turned away. "Get _dressed_ ," Shiro said urgently. "Just, just please put on your clothes, Lance-"

"Why am _I_ naked?" Lance was still talking way too loud, no longer yelling but still at almost an equivalent volume. "Why are _you_ naked, why were we both naked in bed _together_ , did we-" Lance's eyes went wide, and his pink blush went very dark. "Did _we-_ "

"No!" Shiro yelped, hand still over his eyes. "No we did _not_ , get dressed Lance, oh my _god-_ "

"We were naked in bed! Together!" Lance dragged his one free hand down his face. "Holy _shit._ "

Someone cleared their throat, and both Lance and Shiro's heads snapped toward the entrance of the tent. The flap had been pushed aside and Pidge was standing there, wearing the formal Altean diplomatic clothing. She looked at Lance, then looked to Shiro – who was beginning to turn as red as Lance, frozen in place holding half a bedsheet wrapped around him – and then pushed her glasses up her nose with one finger as a large, entirely evil grin spread across her face.

"It's not what you think!" Lance yelled, flailing his free arm.

"It's almost time to head back to the ship," Pidge said pleasantly, the absolutely evil smirk still firmly etched in place. "I'll let Hunk know why Lance wasn't in his tent." She backed out of the tent, still grinning.

"Pidge, wait." Shiro called, his arm outstretched. "Do _not_ -"

"Pidge saw me naked," Lance said in a defeated voice as he sat down cross-legged on the floor, his voice overlapping Shiro's. Shiro let out a loud, aggravated sigh.

"I've seen you naked _before_ ," Pidge called from outside the tent, where she was clearly lurking. "There's nothing there to write home about!"

Lance lifted his head from his hands and glared at the tent's entrance, where Pidge was presumably still lurking. Then he almost went over sideways when Shiro threw his clothes at him. "Would you _please_ just get dressed, already?"

* * *

When Lance emerged from Shiro's tent, several of the Dothori who had been schlepping around outside looked in his direction and made soft whuffling sounds, before scurrying off. "What, _what_?" Lance said, when he finally found Pidge leaned back against one of the low banquet tables that framed the celebration area and eating some purplish fruit like an apple.

"Your shirt is on backward," Pidge said, and took another bite of her fruit.

"And you're a gremlin," Lance snapped, tugging on the hem of the tunic. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"Can't knock on cloth, Lance."

"Can't knock on cloth, Lance," Lance repeated in an angry falsetto, and wrinkled his nose. "What are you eating, and why does it smell so much like feet?"

"No no no," Pidge waved the hand holding her fruit, one finger pointed at Lance. "Either you spill, or I'm going straight to Allura. Are you and Shiro," she raised an eyebrow and made a complicated and very demonstrative obscene gesture with her hands. "You know."

" _No!_ " Lance said.

Pidge's eyebrow went up again.

"We're _not_ ," Lance insisted. "We're not, I don't know what is going on, it was whatever was in that drink they kept nearly pouring down our throats last night-"

"You're not what?" Hunk said, carrying a plat of something that actually looked like bread, and was steaming slightly in the cool morning air. "Hung over? Because I am hung _over,_ man-" He stopped and looked Lance up and down. "Dude, your shirt is on backwards."

"I'm aware," Lance huffed, although this time he started pulling his arms up in the sleeves in an attempt to fix it. Hunk was smirking at him the entire time he rearranged his wayward clothing.

"So was it Myir?" Hunk asked. "She seemed ... extra fuzzy. And I thought you were allergic. Not that I'm judging, man, to each their own-"

"Nah, he slept with Shiro last night," Pidge said, and took an extra-large bite of her fruit.

" _Who_ slept with Shiro?" Keith said, coming up behind Lance with all the subtle grace of a predator about to tear out someone's throat.

Hunk's mouth had gone a bit slack, and he was staring at Lance as if he'd grown a second head. "Okay, I did _not_ expect you guys to take that courtship dance so seriously-"

Lance flung his arms out and yelled, "I did _not_ sleep with Shiro!"

There was a long moment of silence as the last of Lance's words hung in the early morning air. "So ... you were just naked in his tent when I walked in, then," Pidge said.

" _Yes!_ " Lance seemed just then to process Hunk's words. "Wait, _what_ courtship dance!?"

"This just keeps getting better and better," Pidge said.

Keith grabbed Lance by the shoulder and yanked him back, hard. "You were _what!?"_

"Hey!" Lance yelped, as Shiro cleared the edge of the row of tents.

"Keith!" Shiro said, voice firm and commanding. "Lance! Knock it off!" Grudgingly Keith released Lance and Lance rubbed his shoulder pitifully. "I hope everyone is well-rested, we've got a long day ahead of us." Shiro folded his arms as he looked over the other Paladins, and frowned at Pidge's barely concealed snicker. "Princess Allura and Coran will be waiting for us at the castle," he said, and when his gaze swept over Lance he felt it linger for a moment. Lance's ears went red and Pidge audibly giggled. Maybe it was a drastic thing to wish for death, but Lance was rather sure that everyone was looking at him right now anyway, so anything that would put a quick end to him would be absolutely fine at this point.

Or maybe he'd simply imagined that Shiro's steely gaze had lingered on him, and when he glanced casually around at the other Paladins they were all focused on Shiro's orders and not staring at Lance and snickering.

His head _really_ freaking hurt.

* * *

The Princess and Coran had returned to the castle in the later evening, before the festivities were completely over. Shiro had tried to impose himself on returning with them but Allura had given him a level look. "The Dothori want to celebrate their victory with the Paladins," she had said firmly. "They've never cared much for the Alteans, despite that. Also," and she punctuated this with a yawn, "I _really_ need some rest after all those jumps."

So it was no surprise that after a brief shower to rinse off the grime of the day Shiro found the Princess on the bridge. She was still wearing her dressing gown, her long hair unbound, but she had her arms folded and was studying a star chart. Coran was up on the screen, tinkering in the engine room. "We're back," Shiro announced, as if they hadn't communicated several times including the point where everyone returned to the ship. "What are you looking at?"

Allura gestured one hand without unfolding the other from her chest. The star chart zoomed in dizzingly fast; to a star system with a tiny, dwarf star. "Coran noticed an anomaly," she said, and Shiro nodded absently and tried to determine what an ambiguous anomaly looked like on an Altean star chart. "The radio frequencies emanating from this system do not match that of a dwarf star." She tucked her hand back under her arm, brow furrowed. "It's a system devoid of life, none of the planets have anything resembling atmosphere; the star isn't bright enough for anything to be habitable."

"Think it's a hidden outpost, like that hub?" Shiro asked.

"That's what Coran thinks." She looked over at him, finally. "What do _you_ think, Shiro?"

"I think it's worth checking out," he said. "Our numbers are still too small for a full frontal assault on a Galra fleet, but hitting and disrupting supply lines is a good way to keep them scrambling."

She nodded. "I shall set a course for that system."

"How far would it be to just get there on engine power alone?" Shiro asked. "If we just pop into system via wormhole unannounced, we're not going to be greeted very warmly."

"Maybe a day, a day and a half," Allura said. She frowned, and looked over at him. "I'm not afraid to confront them directly, Shiro."

"I know you're not," Shiro said. "But they might not be Galra hiding in there, and we're looking for allies, not necessarily another fight."

After a long moment of consideration, she smiled and nodded her head. "You're right, Shiro. Thank you." She reached out and touched the air above the console, tapping some sigils lightly, and called the remaining Paladins to the bridge. "Coran, how are the engines?"

"Ready to launch, Princess!" Coran said from the monitor. "I got the transcoupling filaments all back in line!"

Shiro glanced back to the elevators as the others joined them on the bridge. Most everyone had taken the brief respite to get changed and cleaned up, although something _must_ have happened because Pidge was riding on Lance's back like a conquering hero. "Don't even _ask_ ," Lance grumbled as he slunk past Shiro with Pidge beaming from her new spot.

"I wasn't going to," Shiro murmured, and shook off the strange shiver that accosted him. Keith and Hunk went to their flight couches right away; and after Lance deposited Pidge in the appropriate location he found his seat as well. Allura did not turn around to look at them, waving her hand over the holographic display above the console, preparing the ship for launch.

"I trust everyone had a relaxing evening," she said, as Shiro took his seat as well. "But playtime is over, it's time now to focus our energy on eliminating Zarkon and bringing down the Galra empire." She extended both her hands over the display, and the ship's engines rumbled to life.

* * *

There was something going on with Lance.

Shiro noticed it first in the afternoon training session. They usually all practiced with their weapons individually for a while; the invisible maze could actually be set up as a proxy shooting gallery since the walls could absorb the blasts from their weapons with little difficulty fully charged. Hunk's bayard – a blaster cannon – did not require much practice in the way of aim, but Lance would practice with his rifle while Shiro and Keith sparred and Pidge tinkered. Shiro didn't usually pay much mind to Lance – often running his mouth at the same time to Hunk, and usually his attention would fully be on Keith anyway – but Lance seemed to have a lot of trouble hitting his marks today. Even Hunk was noticing it.

Shiro picked himself up from the ground without Keith's help and swiped his left hand over his brow, brushing the sweat back through his loose hair. He was watching Lance aim again – he'd been slowly moving those targets farther and farther out over the weeks – and this time the colored energy targets buzzed blue as Lance's shots found their mark. Shiro let out a small, pleased noise and then glanced back to Keith, who was watching him oddly.

"What is going on with you?" Keith asked, his bayard held tight in his right hand. "Why do you keep making that noise?"

"I'm not making a noise," Shiro said, rubbing the back of his neck and then cracking it. Keith didn't have to hit _that_ hard.

"Yes, you _are_ ," Keith said, and Shiro's attention was drawn by the buzz of another found target; this one half the size of the previous ones. Lance whooped and high-fived Hunk, who was standing behind him. " _Shiro._ "

"What?" Shiro said, distracted.

"If you're not going to take this seriously, we should just call it a day," Keith said, and his bayard transformed from a sword back into its original form. "You've been acting weird for a while now, you know?"

That got Shiro's attention back on Keith in a hurry. "I haven't been acting weird," he said, a little put out. "Lance has been acting strange, and it's my duty to make certain everyone's performing at the top of-" Keith put out his left hand, palm up, in front of Shiro's face, and Shiro's brow furrowed, but he continued. "-their game, Keith, _what_?" He pushed aside Keith's hand.

"You're hung up on Lance," Keith said, and his expression was ... perplexed. Very confused. Which, to be fair, Shiro was certain he was mirroring that expression, because he absolutely was _not_ hung up on Lance. And even if he was....

"That's not an appropriate discussion for the training floor," Shiro said instead, and Keith dropped his hand.

"What's not appropriate?" Lance asked, and Shiro immediately took a large step back and away from Keith. It took an impressive amount of effort to keep his ears from going red, and he wasn't entirely certain he succeeded, but that was okay because Lance was glaring at Keith anyway. "Did Captain Fuzzypants try biting again? Because that's totally not on, dude."

Keith's frown turned into a deep scowl. "Don't call me that."

"Don't bite me and we'll see."

"That was _once_ , and I couldn't _breathe._ "

Lance held up his hand in Keith's direction. "Talk to the hand, fuzzy." Lance tilted his head toward Shiro and grinned, clearly fully expecting to be reprimanded for needling Keith, but Shiro's brows drew together and this time he couldn't escape the blush. Lance's grin faltered. "Whoa, Shiro, do you feel all right?"

 _No_ , Shiro thought. "Just tired," he said, and rubbed his hand over the bottom half of his face.

"Your face is like, beet red." Lance took a step closer, peering at him. "Are you _sick_? I mean those Dothori made me itchy but maybe they gave you the space flu or something-"

"He's sick all right," Keith muttered.

It took all of Shiro's willpower not to take another step back when Lance moved closer. "Fevers aren't anything to mess with," Lance was still going on, and he'd reached out one gloved hand toward Shiro's face, as if he was going to try to take his temperature. Shiro caught his wrist and stopped his hand, and was _going_ to say "I'm fine," but Lance froze, wide-eyed, staring at Shiro, and abruptly turned pink himself.

Lance yanked his hand free and backpedaled, nearly bumping into Hunk, who had joined them. "Hunk!" Lance said, far too loudly, turning around at once and shoving his friend with both hands. "Let's go and Do Things!"

"What?" Hunk complained, and Lance shoved him again. " _Things?_ Why are you so allergic to specifics. The last time you said _things_ \- ow!"

Keith and Shiro watched them go, and Shiro let out a long sigh of relief. Then Keith was staring at him with a narrow-eyed, intense expression. "What was that about?"

Shiro shook his head, feeling strangely light-headed. "I really don't know."

* * *

The radio wave anomaly turned out to be an abandoned refueling hub. It was a small orbiting outpost; almost completely gutted; a debris field scattered around it so thick that the castle-ship couldn't get very close. Keith went out alone in the Red Lion to do a closer pass to ensure that no one needed help; the other lions probably could have navigated the debris field if need be, but they stayed in their hanger, their Paladins ready to deploy if danger arose.

They watched from the bridge as the Red Lion darted between wreckage with graceful ease. Lance was conspicuously aware of the absence of Keith standing between him and Shiro, and all the focus in the world on making snide remarks about Keith's piloting did not make Shiro's presence diminish. He knew Hunk and Pidge both were giving him the occasional weird look but he wasn't acknowledging them, and once Keith and the Red Lion returned to their hanger bay Lance set about locking himself in his room and burrowing under the thin blanket and trying his damnedest to put Shiro's very chiseled jaw out of his mind.

(He wasn't succeeding near as much as he hoped.)

Thing was, Lance had had crushes before. Many of them. Multitudes. Hunk was well practiced in the art of nodding and agreeing without actually listening because Lance would lie on his back on the top bunk in their dorm room and wax poetic about a cadet's eyes or hair or figure, and Hunk would be sitting at his desk making the appropriate noises while trying to actually get his homework done. The problem was, this was _Shiro_ that he seemed to have developed a crush on; Shiro who he saw every day and fought beside and occasionally saw in the showers and apparently slept naked in the same bed with. Lance dug the palms of both of his hands into his eyes and groaned loudly, he didn't get crushes on _men_. _Men_ did nothing for him.

Except apparently they did, because Lance was leaving the showers when Shiro walked in with a towel over his shoulders and it took three uncomfortable hours before Lance finally buried his face in his pillow and took care of his business, because holy _hell_ , Shiro's _shoulders._

Which is how Lance found himself banging on Hunk's door with his forehead, fresh from the showers, because he _really_ needed to figure this out.

"Huuuunk," Lance said, when his best friend did not respond. He thumped on the door a few more times with his forehead and getting no response, actually knocked on the door properly with his fist. "C'mon man, I know you're in there."

After another few minutes of that, and still no response, Lance kicked the door (which really wasn't the brightest idea barefoot), and then limped grumbling back toward his side of the hall. He'd barely made it to his quarters when the door beside his swished open, and Keith stood there, arms folded and hair adorably sleep-tousled. "It's the middle of the _night, genius_ ," Keith hissed angrily, and Lance made an obscene gesture in Keith's direction, because he was having a _crisis_ , here, and did not need the input of any wannabe angry loners. "Dude, _what_ is your problem?"

"Your face is my problem," Lance muttered, but his heart wasn't in it. Keith leaned out of his room and stared at Lance, frowning deeply. Lance tried to ignore it, and slapped the wall plate for his room, but Keith had come halfway out of his room now and was staring at Lance with some concern. "What, _what?_ " Lance said, and Keith took another step closer, his expression shifting to one of fascination.

"You smell funny," Keith said, and Lance gave him a weird look.

"You can _smell_ me?" he said, sounding insulted. "I just took a shower, I don't even want to hear it, literally, _just_ took a shower-" and Keith stopped still an arm length from Lance. "This is another creepy Galra thing, isn't it."

"You smell like Shiro," Keith said, and frowned again, his expression sliding back into the familiar territory of anger. "You _did_ sleep with him."

"If by 'sleep with him' you mean just in the same bed, then yeah, _duh_ ," Lance said. "Everyone knows about that."

"You had sex with Shiro," Keith said, and his eyebrows came down, heavy and angry.

"Nope."

"I can _smell it_."

"Look, you've seen his dick same as I have," Lance said. "I am ninety-nine point nine percent certain that I wouldn't have been able to walk out of that tent under my own power if he reamed me like you're assuming." He shook his head and was surprised at the flare of weirdly defensive anger that Keith's words had lit in his belly. "I'm going to bed."

Keith caught his arm and Lance yanked, then tried to shove Keith off him. "Why don't you go bother _Shiro?_ " Lance almost yelled. "I know you wanna suck his dick, why don't you just-" Keith slammed him back against the wall, his eyes glinting with fury. Lance whuffed out his breath painfully, Keith's arm over his chest, then glared right back.

"Lance, _Keith_ ," Allura's voice carried down the hallway; Keith didn't let Lance up for a moment, and Lance matched his glare. Allura came sweeping down the hallway in her dressing gown, two of the mice on her shoulder and her silvery hair flowing behind her like a storm cloud. "What is going _on_ , you've woken most of the ship!"

Lance looked beyond Keith and saw Pidge standing in the doorway across the hall, her glasses in the rat's nest of her hair and pajamas somewhat oversized. She kept squinting at them until she fished in her hair and retrieved her glasses, settling them on her nose.

"Nothing," Lance said sullenly, as Keith released him. "Nothing's going on, Princess. Sorry."

Pidge yawned huge and loud, then rubbed her eye. "They were fighting over Shiro again, Allura."

Keith took a step back and pointed at Lance defensively. "He smells like Shiro."

"I just took a shower," Lance complained. "I've barely even _seen_ Shiro today-"

Pidge said, "he _smells_ like Shiro?" Allura was frowning now too, she looked over to Pidge and said, "there wasn't a _dnthrr_ at that Dothori celebration, was there?"

Keith, Lance and Pidge all exchanged looks.

* * *

Shiro sat back in the cockpit of the Black Lion, and dragged his right hand down his face. He was sweating again, and he wiped his face clean as the forward screen cleared of the simulation. The Lion's engines were not lit but he felt the giant beast rumble, possibly with amusement, and Shiro said something very rude and the rumble increased. "Yeah, yeah, I'm glad _you're_ amused," he murmured, and he pushed one of the flight controls away.

It was only a simulation, but he'd failed again. Voltron had failed to hold together; the Blue Lion had taken a devastating hit from a Galra cruiser's ion cannon, and Shiro had reacted like it was reality. His heart was still racing.

He was still trying to tell himself that he would have reacted the same if it had been any of the other Lions that were damaged as he exited the Black Lion's hatch. He was going to need another shower, and Allura would be rousing everyone in just a few hours to start a new day. Another sleepless night, at least it was semi-productive for him. Shiro stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and thought idly, how much better he would sleep with another body in the bed beside him. Someone he could wrap his arms around, warm and solid, that he could bury his face in the short brown hair at the nape of his neck and listen to him laugh breathlessly when Shiro kissed him there, and oh _god_ he was thinking about Lance again. Shiro pressed both of his hands to his face in the elevator and would thank his brain to cooperate and not do that to him when coffee was nothing more than a fantasy on this ship.

(The bean plant that Coran had brought back from his trip to Knio-7 was not coffee, was not anything that resembled coffee, and he was pretty sure it caused hallucinations, because Hunk had drank half a carafe and screamed about tiny green elephants and Pidge's mouse ears for _way_ too long.)

Shiro wasn't entirely sure where the preoccupation with Lance had gotten started, but it was getting old fast. There wasn't time for him to stray into lovelorn territory, there was a war on and maybe if everyone lived through it he could sit down and unpack everything he was busy suppressing in order to be an effective leader. If the other Paladins wanted to mess around as long as it didn't impact the team, that was fine, but he couldn't allow himself that luxury.

The elevator did not stop on the pilot's quarters, and took him all the way to the bridge. Shiro blinked at this, he was relatively certain he punched in the right level, but he was running on maybe two hours of sleep from the _previous_ night and autopilot took him to command central. To his surprise though, Allura was standing on her dais, and Pidge, Keith and Lance were all standing near her. As one, everyone turned to look at the elevator, and the array of expressions on their faces would be downright comical if Shiro wasn't tired and confused. "Good morning," Shiro said, and stepped off the elevator.

Lance, who had been standing closest to the elevator, promptly relocated to Keith's other side – if Shiro didn't know better, he would assume Lance was hiding behind Keith. Keith was staring at Shiro too, with an almost betrayed look on his face. "Did I miss something?" Shiro asked, and Allura turned fully around, her arms folded over her chest and her expression stern.

Pidge, who was holding a datapad in one arm, turned fully around and unleashed the single-most terrifying smile he had seen _yet_ , and he had shared a cell with a grinning Dreka Lizard. "You got _married_ ," she said gleefully, and hugged the datapad to her chest.

"I – _what?_ "

"You did not tell me you took part in a _dnthrr_ ," Allura said tersely. "This is most grave, Shiro."

He _really_ hadn't had enough sleep. "I'm sorry, what is a _dnthrr_ ," Shiro asked. "And who am I supposed to be married _to?_ I don't remember agreeing to marriage with anyone."

Keith hiked a thumb over his shoulder, somehow Lance had completely disappeared behind him. "This idiot," he said. "You married this one."

Shiro was usually at least somewhat in control of his facial expression, at the moment though he had to forcibly close his own mouth. " _What?_ How?" Then he shook his head and held up one hand. "Wait, it doesn't really matter, does it? Another planet's marriage customs are not important to us, it's not binding."

"A _dnthrr_ isn't exactly like the Earth's version of marriage," Pidge said. "At least that's what it sounds like."

"The tradition is sacred among the Dothori," Allura said. She arched an eyebrow, but her stern expression had drifted to Lance. "It begins with a courtship dance, followed by a fermented draught that binds the couple together. Then the covenant is sealed by consummation." A flush had risen to Allura's cheeks by the end of her statement. "Once consummated the bond is irrefrangible."

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. "So because we danced and drank the drinks they handed out after..." he sighed, and said, " _Lance._ "

Lance's head emerged from behind Keith. "I didn't _know_ ," he squeaked. "It's not my fault! Okay maybe it was my fault a little, but I was dancing with that one chick half the night, and I turned out to be allergic to her _fur,_ imagine how _that_ would have ended!" He shuddered.

"So we just don't consummate it," Shiro said stoically, and folded his arms. "Simple enough."

"It's not that easy, I'm afraid," Allura said with a sigh.

"Yeah," Keith said. "Apparently, if you _don't,_ one of you two will die." He looked back at Lance. "Which, I'm _really_ not seeing a problem with at the moment."

" _Hey,_ " Lance said, wounded.

Shiro took a deep breath, and let it out slowly through his nose. Then, without another word, he turned around and headed back toward the elevator. "Uh, Shiro?" Pidge called after him. "Where are you going?"

"Back to bed," Shiro said. "I haven't had enough sleep to deal with this yet, and no one's going to die in four hours." The lift's doors slid open, and he stepped inside. No one else made to move at all. "I suggest you _all_ get some sleep," Shiro rumbled with authority, then the elevator doors closed.

In the privacy of the elevator, Shiro pushed both his hands through what little hair he had atop his head and said, quite emphatically, " _fuck._ "

* * *

Lance sat at the breakfast table with his legs pulled up under him and still in his pajamas. He had both elbows on the table and was staring listlessly down at the bowl of yellow-green goo that Hunk had somehow made taste like bacon. He really wasn't sure _how_ Hunk managed to do that, considering the goo still had the texture and consistency of goo, but tasting like bacon usually made things better. Today, it did not.

Hunk had slept through the entire thing, so he woke and started breakfast and was duly informed that his best friend was, for all intents and purposes, off the market. He had to sit down. Lance could relate.

"I've come to terms with my impending demise," Lance said, and stirred his spoon around in the goo. "Hunk, you get all my stuff. Kick Keith in the ass for me once in a while." He sighed dolefully, and watched the mice scamper around the table, making an attempt to cheer him up. "The mice can pilot Blue."

"Okay, one, Shiro won't let you die," Hunk said. "And two, the mice, _really?_ "

"Or that little Arusian. He was pretty feisty." Lance poked at the largest mouse with his finger. It squeaked and fell over, clutching its tummy dramatically.

"What about Coran?" Pidge asked from across the table. "I bet he could."

Lance let out a groan and stretched forward, laying his head on the table. "I'm gonna be replaced by a walking mustache."

"No one is replacing you," Keith said. He walked past Lance's chair and kicked out his seat beside Lance. "Unless you _want_ to die, in which case, have fun with that."

Lance lolled his head so he could look at Keith. "Did you just suggest I was irreplaceable?"

Keith rolled his eyes and tucked in to his bowl of goo. "You know," Pidge said. "At some point you will actually have to _talk_ to Shiro." Lance groaned and covered his eyes with his arm.

"I don't want to guilt him into sleeping with me," he said dismally. "This isn't fair to him at all, he doesn't even _like_ me."

Keith actually choked on his goo.

"Dude," Hunk said. "Are you so far up your own ass you haven't noticed the way Shiro's been looking at you?"

"That's just this alien magic juju," Lance said.

"Yeah, because it took affect _before_ we met the Dothori," Pidge snorted. Lance raised his head finally, brow creased. He looked over to Keith, who was staring into his bowl with a stubborn expression. "Pretty sure that their mystical elixir doesn't create attraction where it isn't already."

Lance sat his chin in his hand thoughtfully. "I mean, I know I'm stunningly attractive, but I figured that Shiro was more into the Angsty McBroodypants scheme."

Pidge rolled her eyes, but Hunk smiled. "There he is," he murmured.

"Just go talk to him," Pidge said. "And give us like, plenty of warning so we can be on the opposite side of the ship. I'm already traumatized enough listening to you assholes jack off at night."

Hunk, Lance and Keith all looked at Pidge with alarmed expressions. "I don't even do that in my _room_ ," Keith said, amazed. "That's what the showers are for-"

"Oh god, _gross_ ," Lance yelped. "You yank it in the shower? That we all use!?"

"Lance, so do you," Hunk pointed out.

"Yeah, but I don't have icky Galra spunk!" He attempted to edge his chair away from Keith, but he didn't have any purchase to make it do anything other than rock in place. Keith leaned over and touched Lance's arm with a finger.

"Here's my icky Galra finger," he said, and Lance flailed the arm holding his spoon at Keith, splattering some of the breakfast goo on his face. Keith sputtered and attempted to wipe it, only managing to smear some of the goo. "Augh! Lance!"

"Goo fight?" Pidge said with a grin.

"Goo fight!" Hunk yelled, and flung a hand full of goo at Lance.

* * *

Lance was _reasonably_ sure he'd gotten all the goo out of his hair, but he still smelled faintly of bacon. Well, that was better than smelling noticeably like Shiro (even if it was only Keith who noticed that); as soon as he'd had the thought Lance felt a little queasy. Okay, so apparently he actually _liked_ the idea of smelling like Shiro; it made him feel owned and comfortable. Lance filed _that_ particularly alarming can of worms away for a rainy day, and rocked on his heels in front of the door to Shiro's room, debating on knocking on it or taking the coward's way out and attempting to raise him on the comm instead.

Turned out he didn't have to do either. As he rocked on his heels he heard the door's lock disengage. "Door's open, Lance," Shiro called from within.

After another moment of debating with himself, Lance sighed loudly and touched the wall plate. "How did you know it was me?" he asked as the door slid open, and Shiro glanced up. "And please don't tell me it's because I smell like bacon, I'm aware."

Shiro blinked and processed the bacon statement, nonplussed. "You smell like bacon?" he said. Lance stalked over to where he sat on the edge of his bed and leaned forward, pointing to his hair.

"My hair _reeks_ of bacon," he said. "Smell it!"

It only took a split second of Shiro recoiling for Lance to remember and he took a large step back, his face going pink. "Uh, sorry," he said, suddenly finding the floor a lot easier to look at. "That was probably inappropriate."

Shiro coughed into his hand distractedly, and Lance looked up. Shiro was sitting half-naked on the edge of his mattress, a datapad still in one hand but leaning against his knee. Lance turned belatedly red, graduating from a pink blush to his best impersonation of a cherry tomato. Shiro studied him thoughtfully, and maybe he was just a little bit pink as well. This was going to be embarrassing as all hell, so he might as well get it over with. He took a deep breath.

"So, do you want me to just strip, or...?" Lance asked, and Shiro blinked at him, brow furrowed.

"Why would you-" he started to say, and then he _definitely_ blushed and that was far too cute for Lance. "Oh." Shiro shook his head. "Lance, we need to talk about this."

Fair enough. Lance exhaled and promptly dropped into a seated position on the floor, legs crossed under himself. Shiro gave him a puzzled look, frowned, and then shook his head. He patted the mattress beside himself, and Lance said, "what, really?"

"Well, we _are_ married," Shiro said in an amused tone. "And we've shared a bed at least once already." After a moment, Lance got up and sat down on the mattress beside Shiro, felt it bow a little with his weight. Shiro looked over at him, and Lance suddenly didn't feel quite so small next to him.

Lance sighed. "I'm sorry I got us into this mess," he said finally. "I really don't think about things as much as I should, all these alien customs are so _different_." He was startled quiet by Shiro's left hand resting on his knee. Lance stared at Shiro's hand for a moment, the tip of one faded, angry scar started just above his wrist and ran up his arm. _Defensive wound._ He put his own hand atop Shiro's.

"I don't really think that anything would happen to either of us if we don't consummate this," Shiro said finally. "But it's not worth the risk. You're too important to the team, and..." Lance jerked at Shiro's words, his head coming up quickly, and Lance _stared_ at Shiro in disbelief. "You're important to me, too."

Lance let out a small, self-deprecating laugh, and Shiro said, quietly, "I'm serious, Lance." Lance looked away, scowling. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"In a word?" Lance said, surprised at his own tone. " _Yes_." He made to get up, but Shiro caught his wrist and yanked him back down onto the mattress. Lance made a noise of surprise and dismay as Shiro caught him by the shoulder and shoved him back into the mattress. " _Shiro_ ," Lance squawked, agitated.

Shiro pressed his left hand into Lance's shoulder then, after a moment, put it on the bed beside Lance's head. He loomed over Lance with a stormy expression, still processing ... _something_. Lance took a great gulping breath and tried to calm his fluttering heart as Shiro every so gently touched Lance's jaw with the fingers of his right hand. He brushed his prosthetic fingers along the curve of his cheekbone, then Shiro's jaw tightened and he retreated, pushing his left hand off the mattress and leaving Lance lying on his back with his legs hung over the edge of the bed.

Lance put one hand flat on his chest, amazed that Shiro couldn't hear how furiously his heart was pounding. "This isn't going to work," Shiro said. "Not if you're afraid of me." He looked over at Lance but didn't loom over him. "Not if you think I don't care for you."

"That's – well, that's news to _me_ ," Lance said, attempting to catch his breath and wondering why he felt like he'd done laps carrying the grav weights in his Paladin armor. He folded his arms over his chest and didn't get up, frowning at the ceiling. "How the heck am I supposed to know that if you're always around Keith? That guy hates my guts."

"Keith likes you just fine," Shiro said, amused. "He thinks of you like a little brother. You both certainly fight like it."

" _Little brother?_ I'm three months older than he is!" Indignation was a balm. "I'll kick his ass." Shiro laughed a small laugh, then leaned back on his hand and smiled at Lance. Lance blinked at him, then said softly, "whoa," and covered his face with one hand, because he had _never_ seen Shiro look so comfortably fond and it was almost obscene.

"You're right," Shiro said finally. When Lance lifted his hand he wasn't looking at Lance any longer. He was still leaned back on his left arm, but he was staring distantly across the room, at something probably only he could see. "I haven't been very open with my affections, or my interest. I've been trying to put the team first, to put Voltron first, because, well, we're in a war." Something tightened in his jaw, and hardened on his face. "And I've seen how the Galra would use that affection as a weapon."

"Shiro," Lance said quietly.

Shiro inhaled through his nose and held the breath for a moment before exhaling it, and with it went the tension in his face. "But if you want to try this," he said. "I am interested." He glanced back down to Lance. "And we can take it slow."

 _Hopefully not too slow,_ came insistently from Lance's nether regions, that had been pretty much Ready To Go since Shiro pinned him to the bed. He took a deep breath, and pushed himself up on his elbows, looking up at Shiro with a tilt of his head. "Why do you like _me_?" he asked. "Why would you choose me, instead of Keith who adores you or-" he winced as he got this out through clenched teeth, "Allura, or even one of the many adoring alien women-"

Shiro was silent for a long while, his expression distant even if angled at Lance. Then he smiled and his eyes focused on Lance. "Potential," he said confidentially.

" _Potential?_ " Lance said. "Not my bangin' bod or my charming personality or-" he cut off as Shiro leaned over him again, and dammit, Lance thought he got that under _control_ as he thumped back into the mattress.

"You're the heart of our team," Shiro said, meeting his eye. "You're smart and quick and _so_ talented and you're always there with a quip or more often than not a _completely_ inappropriate remark to try to lighten the mood, you care _so much_ about everyone and it shows through in everything you do-" Lance squawked and tried to cover his face but Shiro caught his hand and held it away. Lance was bright pink already, it felt like his face was going to burn off because that was _too much_ , he couldn't take Shiro saying anything else, but then Shiro leaned down even closer, and said quietly, "I don't know how anyone couldn't fall in love with a heart as strong as yours."

Lance opened his mouth to protest, to say something self-deprecating but Shiro's head dipped lower, his hand again settling on Lance's face but this time with intent, tilting his head to the right angle so that their mouths could meet. Lance inhaled sharply through his nose in surprise as Shiro kissed him. He thought quickly about pushing him away, about pulling Shiro down atop him, grinding up into him and begging for more already, but by then Shiro was pulling away a bit, his face flushed behind his scar, lips bruised pink and shiny. "Huh," Shiro said as he licked his lips, then leaned down and inhaled. "You really _do_ smell like bacon."

Lance shoved him off.

* * *

Allura looked between them, frowning slightly. "And you're certain that this bond won't affect the stability of the team," she said and then sighed and folded her hands on the table. "I do trust your judgment, Shiro, it's just that something like this has never happened with the Paladins before."

"As opposed to a Paladin, you know, going Dark Side and conquering the entire galaxy," Lance said, his chin in his hands. "If that's a ten on the scale of ridiculous Paladin shenanigans, I'd say this is probably a point five."

"If that," Keith murmured.

Lance slammed his hand on the table. "Keith agreed with me, that makes it Law."

"I think you're ranking your relationship too highly. Maybe a point one."

"Whatever, mullet boy. Fight me."

Hunk stood up. "So it's all official then? It's all cool? I'm gonna make a wedding cake, I've always wanted to make one, I wonder if we still have any of those Cieme eggs left that Coran brought back from that space market..."

Shiro sighed in amusement. "There's no need for cake, Hunk. Besides, we really need to get back to training-"

Lance leaned forward in his chair and shot the most pleading, large, watery-eyed puppy dog expression at Shiro, including a jutted out lip. "No cake?" he said.

"If you won't let us actually put on a wedding for you," Pidge said, "at _least_ let Hunk bake a cake. I think we all want cake."

"Fine," Shiro said, because he had relented already but there was no need to let everyone see how quickly he had crumbled. "Hunk, bake a cake. Go nuts. You're excused from training today. Lance, that means you don't get out of bot sparring with Keith though."

"I'll take it," Lance said, standing up so quickly from the table his chair wobbled. He pointed at Keith. "KP duty tonight says I take out more bots than you," he said.

"KP duty for the week, and you're on," Keith said, standing as well.

Lance bounced determinedly past Shiro, and Shiro held out his hand. "Lance," he reminded, and Lance spun on his heel.

"Almost forgot," he said.

"You _did_ forget," Shiro chided with a soft smile, as Lance slid into his arm and leaned down to kiss him chastely.

"I _would_ have remembered before I made it to the door," Lance said, and then kissed the tip of Shiro's nose and straightened. "See you in the training hall, babe."

Shiro flushed a little but allowed Lance to go, where Keith was standing in the doorway waiting for him with folded arms. He rolled his eyes in animated disgust at the display, but Shiro grinned, and then looked back at Pidge and Allura, the only two remaining at the table who had watched everything with identical bemused expressions. "...what?"


End file.
